Happy
by Coffee Reveries
Summary: EWE! AU. Rose reflects on the change the arrival of a certain raven-haired wizard and his baby daughter have caused in hers and her mummy's lives... And beyond. A collection of short and fluffy Harmony family moments. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**A sweet and fluffy peace I couldn't go to sleep without 'putting to paper' or sharing with you lot. Don't worry, the next installment of After the Storm is in the making.**

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For the longest time Rose stood there watching the tiny redhead sleep peacefully in her cot. It was the middle of summer and the town of York was both hot and far too humid for comfort. She stood there in her vigil, not a single rise and fall of breath, sound or ruffling of the wind going unnoticed. Mum was downstairs typing away on her muggle computer, surrounded by stacks of paper and rolls of parchment, teacups piling up before her, dark curls wilder than Rose had ever seen them.

The baby wore a pink onesie to sleep as she sucked idly to her pacifier, a mobile adorned with golden snitches and little lions turning above her to a soft lullaby tune, something mummy said had once belonged to her.

It was strange having company in their little home—especially when one of them was a baby and the other one her raven-haired father. Usually Rose and mum's only visitors were her grandparents who had retired to Portugal or auntie Luna when she passed through after one of her many journeys around the world. Harry Potter was a thing of legends to Rose—legends meaning the bedtime stories her mum would tell her.

Mum and Harry used to be close friends, the best of friends, before each one moved on with their lives, going in different directions. Hermione's direction had been Australia first where she rekindled with her parents and later on the University of Oxford's history department, of course, and then not long after Rosie was born. But Harry, he'd gone on to be an Auror, which was roughly magical police, but it didn't please him one bit—not like teaching did, as far as Rosie knew. So, he applied himself and became a professor at Hogwarts, to Rose, just one more amazing setting to the fairytales her mother would tell her: a large, rather gloomy castle in Scotland, surrounded by a lake and a forest which you could arrive to through a red train.

Something had happened though, Rose couldn't quite understand it, but after a few weeks, it was safe to say that he lived here now, in their small little townhome within the walled city of York, redhead baby girl and all.

Mum didn't say much but she did smile more often, even though the baby kept her up at night, several nights. Hermione would hum happy songs as she cleaned the house or cooked and didn't mind if Rose watched an extra hour of television here and there, most often because she would greet him at the door, they would hug when they didn't think Rose was looking and sometimes, like just a little while ago, they would kiss.

That's how Rose realized that this Harry of legends and fairytales was here to stay, and so was his baby.

All her life it had just been mum and Rose against the world and she for the life of her never imagined having a dad—those were things other people had, just like some children lived with their grandparents and others had two mums instead of one, sometimes none. As for siblings, Rose never thought much of them—mum herself didn't have any and seemed to have turned out just fine. But now, looking at the little redhead beginning to stir in her sleep as the pacifier slipped out of her lips, she felt something in her heart that made it beat very fast. Rose found that she loved this sweet baby, that she wanted no harm to ever come her way.

The baby, Lily, began to whine and make sounds. Rose grasped on to the wooden bars of her cot, stretched on the very tip of her five-year-old toes and gently popped the pacifier back into her mouth. Lily suckled happily, not once opening her bright green eyes to acknowledge the older girl. Rose's lips curved in satisfaction, she was a perfect older sister already. She heard the bedroom's wooden door creak open behind her. Turning around, Rose's large dark eyes landed on him—the Harry of legends, or simply, the Harry of this home.

"Thank you for watching her, Rose." He said with a smile, crossing his arms above his chest, the deep green of his sweater bringing out the color of his eyes, even from behind the round-rimmed glasses, as he leaned into the wall. "Listen, Hermione's downstairs finishing up her work and it's nearly nine already—how would you like it if I told you a story tonight?"

His offer gave her a full minute's pause. Mummy was never too busy to tell her a story goodnight. Rose turned back to look at the baby, sleeping soundly in her cot and everything someone so small made her feel. She figured it wouldn't kill her to give him a chance.

She made her way to her bed, burying herself under her cotton blanket. She moved over to allow him some space and he sat beside her with his back to the light-blue headboard, crossing his ankles casually. Rose lay her head of dark curls on his shoulder, bunching up the soft fabric of his sweater in her fist, purring softly like a cat. He couldn't help but smile at her sudden ease with him.

"Rosie, have you ever heard of the legendary witch Hermione?" She nodded. Of course she had, and so he went on.

Before either of them knew it, all was dark and quiet, just the mobile's lullaby playing softly in the background. Hermione kissed them both tenderly on the forehead, her heart filled with love, before turning around to retreat back downstairs.

"_Mummy!"_ The witch heard a whispered call, just as she was about to cross the threshold. She huffed silently and shook her head, before turning back and tiptoeing back towards the bed.

"Yes, my darling?"

"_I'm happy."_ Rose whispered, in a sleepy drawl.

"So am I, love—very happy… I have all three of you." She wasn't expecting it and because of the bedroom's darkness never saw it coming, but she felt his arm reach around her legs, fingers grazing up her thigh and bottom from beneath the silk of her sleeping gown—the sneaky little bugger—before wrapping loosely around her waist, his fingers tracing soft little circles on her skin. Hermione couldn't hide the delicious goosebumps that arose on her delicate skin from his intimate touches, or the silly smile playing on her lips, the joy dancing in her eyes as she looked at him, a mischievous grin plastered onto his face. "And you come to bed, Mr. Potter—frankly, falling asleep in a child's bedtime." He chuckled, carefully climbing out of the softly snoring Rosie's bed and following her. He always followed her, his bushy-haired bossy little know-it-all.

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** Reviews feed my soul ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hopefully, this chapter answers a few of your questions. Ah, and enjoy the fluff!**

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They were walking along the narrow stone roads of York, just a few minutes from home, on their way to the grocers. It was a Saturday, a lazy day for their family, where Hermione put some time off from the mountains of work she'd bring home from the university and just lounge around all day with a book or listening to music as she calmly sipped a tea staring outside of the bay window of their room. She'd stayed back home with Lily, who was napping as if by some sort of miracle against her chest, as she enjoyed the rare opportunity to watch a movie on their muggle telly. Harry summoned Rose out of the house so they could buy some ingredients for supper and now here they were. Harry loved to cook—it was something that he'd learned to do out of necessity while living with the Dursleys but that had become more than something he _had_ to do, it was something he truly adored and excelled in.

Harry appreciated the fact that the whole alchemy of cooking was something that deeply interested Rose, who like her mother had a more intellectual view of the world and took every venture into the kitchen as if it were some groundbreaking science or potions experiment… It was quite adorable, her enthusiasm, and every day Rose resembled her mother more, while wondrously still being very much her own person. When Harry announced that he would cook soufflé this evening Rosie ran out of her bedroom putting on her favorite yellow scarf, coat, and colorful rainboots and enthusiastically told him that she would accompany him.

And here they were, on their way—she skipped around the stone pavement happily as he watched her.

Two years had passed since he entered Rose's life and the same amount of time had gone by since she, not he or anyone else, adopted him as her father. It was quite an honor, even if she interchangeably called him 'dad' and 'Harry' confusing almost everyone outside of their little family. They reached a wider street and finally were able to walk side by side. She slipped her little fingers in his hand and he gave her's a gentle squeeze. It would never cease to amaze him just how much this little girl moved him in the simplest of ways. He felt the same with Lily, but perhaps with Rose it was different because she hadn't been born by him, it was her choice—every little smile, every time she sought him for advice, every time she chose to spend time with him, hug him, ask for a story, call him daddy—it was her choice, she had given him the honor of being her father and that meant more to him than words could describe.

Perhaps this was due to the fact that he couldn't remember his father or even what having one was like. What Harry wouldn't have given, the scrawny and battered little boy that he was, to be able to choose someone to be his parent. Every single time he thought it might happen, the possibility slipped out of his fingers… First Sirius, followed by Remus and then after that, he was already too old, too seasoned by his life's tragedies and the prospect nevermore showed itself—Harry grew up.

Rose halted suddenly and Harry, lost in his thoughts, nearly tripped over. He followed her gaze and let out a silent chuckle as his eyes landed on the charming little ice cream parlor that she loved. He saw the longing in her brown eyes and just like that his heart melted. They were just an hour or so away from dinner, but he could never resist the child—Hermione often chided him about it—he rolled his eyes at his lover's crazy dentist's child ways, a person who couldn't appreciate the wonder that was sweets and sugar.

"Hey, Rose-Petal, would you like to have a scoop?" He asked and she smiled brightly, hugging his legs and then pulling him by the hand through the shop's door, the golden bell ringing as they entered.

Minutes later all had been paid for and they sat on the wooden table outside, watching the passersby, admiring the shops and the Christmas lights already hanging on the buildings. Rose wasn't a very talkative child, perhaps that was where she differed the most from her mother who always had something to say, whether one was willing to hear or not. The kid was a mystery sometimes… How could a seven-year-old be a mystery?

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked, nearly finished with his chocolate and lemon sorbet.

"What took you so long?" She asked, her eyes meeting with his. Her gaze wasn't accusing or judgmental, but genuinely curious. He could tell it was a question she'd been ruminating over for a long time. He shifted awkwardly in his seat and ceremoniously cleaned his mouth with the napkin. Her dark eyes didn't leave him once.

"To move in with you and your mum, I gather?" She nodded.

"Well, I was working at Hogwarts before, but you know that. The job required that I live there…" Rose rolled her eyes, she couldn't be fooled and that would be his downfall.

"I was also engaged to Lily's mother and I did love her, it just didn't work out as either of us expected it would. With time we both realized we wanted different things out of life—and then Lily came along unexpectedly and we tried to stay together longer, tried to find that love we once had for each other but it didn't work that way. Lily's mum was very unhappy, I was unhappy and then one day she decided to leave. I hadn't the faintest idea how to take care of a baby by myself so I thought I'd write to someone who did and your mum and I became close friends again."

"Why did you have to become friends _again_?" Harry thought long and hard for a moment, the memories of about eight years ago coming back to the surface.

Hermione had been at Oxford studying her arse off pursuing both Classical and Medieval History as her majors. He'd been working as an Auror for the ministry for a few years, a job that didn't bring him the excitement and challenges he had craved—it was all so tiring for him and each day he woke up in the morning, did the very same things only to return to bed in the evening, just as indifferent and tired as in the morning. It wasn't something people discussed, depression and post-traumatic stress disorder, especially in the Wizarding world where mental illness was still completely taboo. It was a surprise Harry even found the will-power to get up from the bed most days—but he had perhaps Ginny to thank for that and Ron. He hadn't been easy on them… Harry remembered leaving his job one day after handing in his resignation letter to Head Auror Higgins. After that life was even more of a blur... He saw very little of Hermione and when he did, she gave him the vigor and just enough of light and enthusiasm to last him a few weeks—her effect on him was overwhelming and absolutely scary, but also, seeing and being with her was like coming home, they were his only moments of peace. But she was busy—being Hermione, being smart and intellectual and reading piles and piles of books and ancient documents and papyri, writing essays and scientific articles…

Hermione had given him the best years of her childhood and youth, he couldn't force her to give him anything more. Harry was certain that just one word or one faltering smile could prompt her to drop everything for him, and Merlin he'd never been worth it. So, he avoided her, no matter how much his entire being ached for her—it was sheer torture. And then on his 22nd birthday, she appeared out of the blue at his door, pregnant. She engulfed him into a giant hug that lasted hours, it seemed. She was stressed and worried out of her mind, but still absolutely radiant. Hermione had just graduated and was already researching for her Master's dissertation while working as an Assistant professor in York. She had dark bags under her eyes and her skin was paler than he remembered it being, even during the bone-shattering winter of the war… and that was saying a lot. It had shocked him to no end, seeing her like that, and of course, carrying a life inside of her. He knew something was deeply wrong with him when he found himself wishing, praying and hoping that the baby was his—but of course, it wasn't. How could it possibly be? Hermione had become involved with a professor at Oxford, a rare moment of lack of wisdom and responsibility and then nine months later Rose Guinevere Granger came to be. And the professor, completely out of the picture. It was also the summer Harry wrote back to Headmistress McGonagall, accepting the post of professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, which quite honestly, saved his life.

"We were both living separate lives… I was in London working as an Auror and your mother was in Oxford studying, following her dream. I didn't want to bother her with my problems, so I stupidly let her slip away."

"Didn't she notice you were slipping away?" Harry nodded.

"Your mum notices everything, Rose—never _ever_ doubt that." He let out a hoarse chuckle and Rose couldn't help but let out a small smile, it was quite true. "She was bothered by it, but I always avoided her so we had very few moments to actually be together and talk in those days… And then you came around and Hermione was even busier…" Rose hummed in understanding, staring down at her half-eaten ice cream.

"But you won't ever leave, will you?" She whispered, minutes later, raising her big brown gaze to look at him—he could tell it was something she worried about. His heart sunk for her—Rose knew too well that parents could up and leave you, her birth father had done that and even Lily's mum had decided to leave her as well.

Harry smiled and opened his arms for her to climb onto his lap so he could hug her tight. Rose did so and pressed her cheek to his heart. He held her tight against him and kissed her forehead.

"I'll only leave you when I die, Rose…" She wrapped an arm around his neck, hugging him back with urgency.

"I won't let you die, daddy." She whispered and he can feel the sting of tears in the corner of his eyes. When it came to his girls, Harry Potter was always a pile of mush…

…

After dinner Lily and Rose played quietly in the living room—Rose was keen on teaching her how to build a proper fortress out of the wooden blocks. Two-year-old Lily thought it quite funny when each time her sister piled the walls neatly up and then she knocked the fortress down. Rose grew annoyed while the little redhead giggled and giggled, her cheeks rosy and green eyes bright with humor.

"You're better off watching Peppa Pig, Lily… Or I might have to knock _you_ over." Rose grumbled, thick dark eyebrows furrowed, threateningly. Hermione chuckled as she overheard from the doorway to the kitchen and watched as her daughter reached for the remote control and put the children's cartoon on.

The witch felt his warm hand weigh on her shoulder and turned around. He had his 'kiss the cook' apron on and gave her a gentle squeeze.

"She asked today…" Hermione's forehead creased in confusion for a few seconds as she looked back at him. "She asked if I would leave…"

Though Hermione knew how irrational it was, this fear of her, she felt herself go cold for a minute, a sensation of dread and nerves overcoming hers. She couldn't speak, only look at him.

Though not the most observant wizard on earth, Harry noticed her reticence and the flicker of fear in her eyes, as she stared back at him. He sighed deeply and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her, Hermione's arms limp. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and his hand gently slid up her back and dove into her golden-brown curls, vanilla scented and ever-soft.

"_And?_" She finally whispered and he held back the urge to roll his eyes. With his hand, he rose her chin up so their eyes could meet and he pressed his lips onto hers.

"Until death do us part, Hermione…" Was his only answer, before he produced a delicate antique ring from inside his jeans pocket—it was rose-gold and encrusted with tiny diamonds on the shanks and in the middle a large oval-cut diamond surrounded by what looked like four rounded petals, with more small and delicate diamonds in floral motif inside. Her eyes widened, and with them, a smile broke on her face—the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen her wear.

"I know you're not one for marriage—but I thought you could perhaps be my partner for life?" Hermione nodded, breathless and voiceless, apparently and he chuckled.

"I love you, you twat…" She finally managed, with a teasing smile.

"Oh, well I love you too, crazy person." He pulled her into his arms and they kissed.


	3. Chapter 3

Lily stormed into their shared flat with a frantic look on her face, her bright ginger hair looking as wild as the feelings she felt this instant.

"What is it?" Rose asked her, looking up from the computer she was furiously typing on, in the last stages of her new article for _The Quibbler_.

"Dad sent a letter in, it won't be much longer…"

"Mummy, you mean?" Rose's words were just about choked out, barely audible as the grief she was already feeling kicked in. Their mother had been sick for some months now, and quite honestly it felt like something deeply unacceptable for the likes of the formidable Hermione Granger. The woman was fierce, brave, a fortress, and the idea of cancer or illness never quite felt like they could have an effect on her… Until the diagnosis a year ago. Merlin, their mother was barely in her seventies! "I reckon this means we should go home then, be with her…" Lily watched as her older sister's eyes filled with tears, as she swallowed an incoming sob, breathing in so heavily that she trembled. "I-I've got to pick up Matilda from school…"

"You know what, start packing things, I'll go." Lily volunteered.

"You just came in…"

"And I can just as easily go out again, Ro." Rose sighed and nodded, wiping the few tears that had managed to escape her eyes. The 'thank you' was implied and Lily nodded in response, turning around to leave once more, the note that had been in her hands left abandoned on the wooden table by the door.

Rose examined it, a mere two lines of hastily written words in her father's subpar scrawl. They were perhaps the most devastating words she had ever read, more so than the ones in her divorce files of two years ago, more so than the echoes of sadness of Virginia Woolf or the poems of Woodsworth.

Nothing could be more devastating than her mother's death.

…

When they arrived at their parents' cottage in the outskirts of Cambridgeshire, spring was at its prettiest. The vibrant lilac of the wisteria vines contrasted against the stone walls and the white-painted window panes. The double front door was a bright sunshine yellow, Rose remembered how Lily had chosen the color when they first moved here from Yorkshire, when their mum officially became a faculty member of the University of Cambridge. Wild poppies, daisies and marigolds grew happily along the fields and between the grass. Then there was the large shady willow tree their father had lovingly planted, at the edge of a pond, also surrounded by flowers, and sitting under the shade of it on a comfy wicker chair was their mum, peacefully reading a book, while at that exact moment Harry came out of the house carrying a tray with her favorite porcelain teacups and the freshly-brewed pot.

It was like a scene from one of those romantic BBC country movies, where the characters are all beautiful and live in cosy, bucolic houses in this idyllic version of England. They were happy, had been happy for a long time, and this was what brought a pang to Rose's heart for that happiness was soon to end.

"Grandad!" Matilda, Rose's seven-year-old daughter exclaimed happily, as she ran past the wooden gate.

"Well, if it isn't _Matilda of England_!" She giggled at his title for her, inspired by a medieval English princess who dared to want to crown herself queen, albeit unsuccessfully. Really it was Harry's way at poking fun at the fact that Tillie's dad was as New Yorker as those came. "Darling, won't you fetch granny a blanket inside? There's one on the sofa…" Matilda nodded, waving at her grandmother who smiled at her from under the tree before running off.

Rose felt Lily squeeze her hand reassuringly, before they both crossed the gate together, unable to feel the same carefreeness that they alway allowed themselves when at home.

"Dad…" Lily called out.

"Hey, Tigerlily, come sit for tea." He motioned for them to follow them to the tree. Matilda arrived back with the blanket which the sisters stretched out on the grass for them to sit upon.

"Hello, mummy," Lily said, kissing her mother on the cheek before plopping down at her feet, resting her head on Hermione's knee. "Forgive Rose's speechlessness, you know she isn't good with emotions…" Hermione snickered, which turned into a full-force laugh.

"Mum, how can you laugh right now?" Rose finally asked, "and how can you make jokes?" she questioned her sister, her eyebrows knit together, her lips forming a scowl. "Can we please stop pretending for one minute and acknowledge that our mother is dying?"

"_Rosalind!_" Hermione admonished with her lips setting in a strict straight line. "For Merlin's sake I'd like a bit of peace and good cheer with my family, thank you very much." Rose's eyes met with her mother's, brimming with tears, her lips trembling as though she were five-years-old all over again.

"Mummy, I don't want to lose you!" She let out a sob only for Harry to wrap an arm around her shoulders, rubbing her arm in an attempt to soothe her. Rose was too much like Hermione. She was straightforward, painstakingly detail-oriented, focused and tremendously perfectionist, but she was also very sensitive and felt things all too deeply. Like Hermione, Rose was transparent, she didn't know how to hide her feelings.

"Harry Potter, what exactly did you write on that note?" Hermione asked him, all patience gone to bust.

"I said it wouldn't be much longer and for them to come home to say goodbye."

Hermione's eyes widened and she face-palmed herself shaking her head. "You idiot." Rose and Lily both looked at one another in confusion, and then back and forth between their parents.

"Now that I said it aloud I realize it wasn't the best wording."

"Harry, you bloody wanker!" Hermione cursed him, her hand still covering her face, until a huge smile broke out and she laughed until her whole face was red. "Merlin, you made them think I was on my deathbed… No wonder Rosie's so rotten today!"

Not understanding much of what was happening but finding her grandmother's laughter contagious, Matilda also laughed, and then Harry joined in and Rose and Lily both felt like complete idiots.

"What in the name of _fucking _Circe is going on here?" Lily cried out, crossing her arms over her chest in annoyance. "Mother, are you not dying?"

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, "not anymore anyway. The healers said the cancer's gone away."

"So that pioneering treatment at St. Mungo's miraculously worked?" Hermione nodded her head and waved her hands flamboyantly.

"I asked your father to invite you all here to give you the official news, I found out yesterday after two weeks of endless exams."

"And that whole thing about saying goodbye?"

"Right, yes! Your mum's finally been cleared and because we're both retired we decided to finally buy that jeep we always dreamt of and go traveling." Harry explained, "in fact, the jeep's in the old horse barn as we speak. We wanted to say our goodbyes before we leave on Saturday because we're only due back in September for your mum's birthday and another set of check-ups she'll need to do."

Lily dead-panned for a moment before slapping her father's arm.

"I never thought I'd day this dad, but how on earth did someone as smart as mum end up with someone as mental as you? And here I was already thinking about different types of coffins and what bloody flowers she would like… And who exactly is going to drive this jeep? Mum can't drive through all of Europe alone and you can't start a car if your life depended on it!"

"You're both going to hell for this scare today." Rose threatened them with a shake of her head, "and before mum cheekily says that she doesn't believe in hell I'll have you both know that I'll be giving you hell. I'm going with you on this little trip of yours, Matilda and I both in fact." Hermione's smile faltered and her eyes met with Harry's look of utter mortification.

One Hermione was work enough, but having two wildly different and equally bossy Hermione's was the worst.

"In that case Lily should come too, that way she can separate any potential fights between the two of you." Harry motioned to his wife and their eldest, "Merlin knows I'm too old for this and I'm completely rubbish at reading muggle maps."

"Now honestly dad, how did you manage to even get decent grades in school if you can barely properly write?" Harry chuckled.

"Your mum helped of course!"

"Harry's a lazy arse, that's what he is. Couldn't even take the time to explain things properly on paper, had to write the two most idiotic lines ever…" Hermione muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Can someone please be so kind as to finally serve this blasted tea?"

"I'm glad you're cured, love." Harry looked at her with adoring eyes.

"What you should be is thankful, Potter, you're dead without me." Though her words were as snarky as they came, no one was blind to the sheer happiness on Hermione's face, or the tenderness for him in her gaze.

"Don't I know it!"

"Ugh, quit flirting you two, it's sickening!" Lily cried out with an expression of fake-disgust.

"Mummy, are all families like ours?" Matilda asked her mother with genuine curiosity. Her paternal grandparents back in New York weren't half this mental, or fun for that matter.

"Oh, probably not, love, hard to beat all this madness."


End file.
